Actus Reus
by MidnightMoonWarrior
Summary: Title is Latin for a 'guilty act'. This is exactly what Ethan Hunt did the moment he stepped into that van. Although some people wouldn't call stripping someone down with one's eyes bad. Hunt/Brandt - Ghostverse - STRONG T


FF intro: Title is Latin for a 'guilty act'. This is exactly what Ethan Hunt did the moment he stepped into that van. Although some people wouldn't call stripping someone down with one's eyes bad (even if it was a sexy stranger) … Hunt/Stranger (Brandt) – Ghostverse –Oneshot: Short, sweet, and awesome!

I don't own Mission Impossible, just the awesome Slash Goggles I own!

Pairing: Ethan Hunt/ William Brandt – Handt? Ethiam? Hmmmm….this pairing needs an official name. Anybody got any ideas? Wilhan?

AN: Slight cursing, small undertones of the lusty type… ; )

From Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol, you know the scene. Yes, you are allowed to go watch it again for eye sex (even if it may or may not exist) ….XD

DEDICATED TO centonlover1997, god knows you've waited for this for too long! XD

Here we go!

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><p>Everything hurt.<p>

His head, since he may or may not have a concussion, his feet, having to walk a few miles in too big leather boots, his ribs and everything else that physically made his person up; turns out that getting thrown on your ass by the explosion that tore apart the Kremlin wasn't good for your body, not that jumping into a moving vehicle before running like mad with no respect for your injured helped.

Not to mention that he was cold.

Sure it wasn't the middle of the ice age, but Russia was still a cold place. The cold brought numbness, which didn't really help since it made his injures hurt that much worse.

All that said, he, Ethan Hunt, wasn't really a happy person right then.

A few people had tried to make conversation, about the weather, the time, and the Kremlin; he had glared at all of them and walked away. Was it rude? He didn't give a fuck.

The mission had been a failure; he had been surpassed by one of the top United States enemies, and very harrowingly avoided being arrested by the Russian secret police.

He was allowed to be a little bitchy.

The rank that came with that privilege was gained through time and accomplishment, both which he had. Rarely did he or his commanding officers evoke throwing the secret spy version of a 'hissy fit' but if said a word about the Kremlin before he initiated the conversation….heads would roll.

A black SUV rolled up; he appeared from the place he had been in the shadows to get into the warm vehicle. He didn't want to stay in the cold longer than he had too. Besides, perhaps he could hear news of Benji and Jane.

While it was standard procedure to split up, he still worried about them. He was the team leader, if they were captured it was his fault. Mostly, he was worried about Benji. While he had passed the field exam, Benji still seemed like he left himself open sometimes. Jane could take care of herself; perhaps the female would find Benji. Hopefully he could join back up with them on a redemption mission.

But first of course he had to get into the SUV and get shipped back to some safe house for X amount of time before he would be moved to another safe house before he would be reassigned to something else.

The dark interior of vehicle welcomed him as climbed, his attitude dissolving as he spotted the IMF Secretary. You were not allowed to be pissy around the man, no matter how bad your attitude was.

He focused solely on the Secretary, not caring who else was in the car. Although, as far as he was concerned, there wasn't anyone else.

"Mr. Secretary" He said in a respectful tone, no trace of his impending bitch fit left. He closed the door before continuing to speak "I wasn't aware you were in Russia"

He had to have been here before the explosion, there was no way he had flown in just because of it. The tragedy was only hours old, there was no way the man of such great importance had gotten to Russia that fast.

"I'm not" The older and wiser man replied with a slight edge. "Not since a bomb blew up the Kremlin" He inwardly winced; there was no telling how much trouble this may cause. It seemed by the old man's tone that he wasn't very happy, something they had in common at the moment.

"Yesterday, I flew in to accept the order of friendship from the Russian Prime Minister. Now, I'm heading back to Washington to hand the President my resignation" The news sunk in like a blow from a metal pipe, but he said nothing. Obviously this was news that the Secretary wasn't happy about; he honored the fact that the man wanted nothing said about the matter.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a man staring at him.

A quick glance told him the basics; he was a tall, well-built man, with dark hair and green eyes' frankly, he admitted to himself, the man was handsome. The stranger looked familiar, like someone that he seen before the memory was buried. His interest was perked; the Secretary of IMF was in Russia when h wasn't supposed to be, and the man he brought along in his secret endeavor was the person who was watching him like he was about to punch him.

The stranger diverted his eyes a moment before he looked to meet gazes with the man.

He analyzed the man a bit deeper, trying to remember where he had seen him from before.

The man was strong, physically and emotionally, but still flawed. There were secrets lurking, the man wasn't perfect. The stranger wasn't a machine like many IMF agents became, but a hard shell with a soft center. The man was still human; perhaps that's why his attention was being drawn to him.

Since he was drawn to the physical nature of the man, he analyzed it first. The man was of average height, an average build as is seemed although he knew differently. The muscles faintly showed through the somewhat ill fitted suit, it seemed the man cared more for his work than his fashion. Skin showed no visible scar, just tan skin that he would love to see closer up. The neck was slightly visible to him, a body part he wanted to see more of; kissing and nipping his way up…

Focus Hunt, he told himself, trying not to get into those thoughts. Since Julia was gone from his life forever, he had found a coping mechanism in having sex. Was it a fucked up way of coping? Yes, but it worked. He didn't self-implode as most thought he would. Since he was in an all-male prison during this coping stage, the sex had come from men. At first he had been hazy about it all, but his need for that pleasure, in order to forget just for one damn moment, had wiped all the thoughts against it away.

He now had no idea was his sexual orientation was, straight, gay, bi, whatever…it really wasn't that big of a goal on the list currently topped by Cobalt.

Instead of the body, which he knew would lead to nothing good; he focused on the small details that would reveal the mind of the unknown man. The man was an agent of some kind, sitting straight in his seat instead of slouching into the dark leather as most civilians would. The few wrinkles suggested that he had been under of the stress of combat, but the slight nervous tapping that the man's foot was doing shows that it had been a while since his last field mission. His gaze, currently focused on the back of the driver's head, was steady and precise; things that confirmed the agent status. But there was something that he couldn't figure out; there was a nervous something … a nervous _feeling _coming from the man.

The man really looked like a nervous wreck waiting to happen; maybe a hug would make things better? Not a tight, can't breathe, hug; but one that was snug that made every fiber feel loved.

Then one or two kisses, an X to the feel good O.

Focus; his sexually hungry side growled in irritation.

The Secretary interrupted before he could dive deeper into his own questions of the man and of his sexual need.

"My Chief Analyst, William Brandt"

William, a nice strong name. The man was successful in his work, just as the name foretold. Professional as well it seemed, Brandt held out his hand, obviously waiting for a handshake.

He ignored it, if he took the hand he might just pull the man into his lap. He couldn't really see the man's ass from here, but he had a feeling that it was nice and firm. Maybe if the director wasn't here, he would of; he was sure he could bring Brandt to work with him. The man shuttering as chills ran up his spine from each think he whispered in his ear…

"Pen?" He asked, although it could have been a mumble; he didn't care as long as no more heat went to his lower regions.

"Pardon?" The voice was deep, smooth; he bit the inside of his check. That voice was one that would create heavenly groans as he moved his way down the man's body, tearing at the clothes that separated from the warm skin he knew awaited underneath…

"A PEN" He said a bit too forcefully, trying to banish the thoughts from his head which obviously turned the man off of him a little bit. His horny side laughed evilly, knowing it was a losing battle.

The man reached in his jacket, showing a bit of how the dress shirt fitted underneath, he swallowed thickly, before handing him a pen.

He took it, trying not to focus on the sparks he felt as the tiniest skin went against his, and begin scribbling on his palm. At first, he felt himself wanting to write the words 'EM KCUF' and show it to the analyst; who would decode the 'FUCK ME' message in less than a second.

'Do it, do it, do it!' The sex hungry voice in the back of his chanted.

But instead he forced the urge back and scribbled the profile of Cobalt.

"Ethan, what happened in the Kremlin?" He heard the Sec. ask, but he ignored it as he finished his bad drawing.

"Chief Analyst you say?" He let the challenging tone leak into the statement, like he was teasing William. Although he wished the man would take the tone as a 'Come here big boy' type deal instead.

"Well if you're implying I made a bad call…" The man took it defensively, striking out as he looked down. It didn't make sense, what was that for?

But he pushed that back for now, getting back to the reason for his drawing. "European male, fifties, six foot, one hundred eighty pounds, blue eyes. Who is he?" He showed Brandt the scribble, all while staring at the beautiful man before him. The man briefly looked away; he could see the wheels turning in the man's head; the logic and faces flashing in his mind.

Of course, he knew that the mind needed a break; the exhaustion was obvious on the man. He could help with that…

He could imagine, the man drawing closer as their tongues fought for dominance. The hot feel of skin against skin would entice a moan from both of them, before he pushed the man deeper into the leather seats…

He felt his cock at half-mast; thank god that the shadows.

The voice of the one he was dreaming of interrupted his fantasy, but dammit if the man had to stare at him when he was talking "Crude drawing, but by your description, it could be Kurt Hendrix. 190 IQ, served in Swedish special forces; professor of physics at Stockholm University, specialist in nuclear end game theory. Asked to resign…" The man took a breath before giving a cute 'oh' and "…because he's crazy"

His thoughts about fucking the man were put on hold, which most of him hated, as he reexamined the information he had just heard and what happened in the Kremlin. Memories of the man flashed through his mind, the briefcase sticking out.

"Cobalt" He said lowly

Great, on top of everything else; the failed mission, his missing teammates, his hard on; he had to deal with that guy.

The pieces started to fall into place…

Despite not wanting to, he forced himself to tear his gaze from the gorgeous man to look at the Secretary "You have to alert the Kremlin, one of their strategist has a nuclear launch device and one of his operatives has the codes to activate it" The situation was one of seriousness, although his mind began to drift back towards Brandt…

"What makes you say that?"

Speak of the devil…

He connected eyes with the man once more, his voice becoming a little more horse "I saw him, leaving the executive armory with a bag in hand." Looking back towards the Secretary, he banished the thoughts for the information "He set off an explosion to cover his tracks, it could be _weeks_ before the Russians know it's missing unless we tell them"

"They won't listen, as far as the Russians are concerned, we just bombed the Kremlin" And he was right, despite what he wanted to say against it, he knew the older man was right. Why would you listen to the people who just bombed you? Or supposedly bombed you… "The tension between the United States and Russia hasn't been this high since the Cuban Missile Crisis. And the blame…"

Oh god, he thought, here we go…

He almost thought to look at Brandt for sympathy, but decided against it because there would be none.

"…points right to IMF"

A moment of silence went through the car, all three of them having deep ties inside the agency that was suspected. The situation got worse it had seemed, even though he was no longer cold, pissed, or hurting…although he did have a half hard sex machine ready to go.

It's not like things could get any worse…right?

"The President has initiated Ghost Protocol…"

Fuck, just did.

Him and big brain, always thinking at the wrong times and jinxing himself.

"The entire IMF is being disbanded"

But they had to stop Cobalt, the world would go to hell, he just knew it, if the man wasn't stopped. And if IMF was disbanded, he would never see William Brandt again…something he and his horny inner self didn't want.

"So what now?" He asked, although he knew EXACTLY what he was going to do. He was going to hunt Cobalt down, whatever way necessary, kill him and make sure the IMF wasn't shut down. Then he was going to find Brandt and make sure that he knew how many skills he had under his belt. Especially finding that one spot that would make the man scream and beg beneath him…

Of course not necessarily in that order.

"Now, I've been ordered to take you back to Washington…" The Secretary's voice cut through the lust fog, he groaned inwardly. He knew he wasn't just half hard anymore. He tried to focus, look serious. "…where the DOD will label you as a rogue extremist and hand the Kremlin bombing on you and your team"

Not happening. He could deal and had dealt with prison, Benji couldn't. There was no way in hell that Jane and Benji were going to be shunned like he had been. OVER HIS DEAD BODY!

He eyed the gun in reach, knowing that he would shoot his current sex object if it meant saving the others.

"Unless you were to escape, somewhere between here and the airport" He cocked an eye brow, knowing exactly what the man was saying.

"Of course, after assaulting Mr. Brandt and me" Oh he would love to _assault_ Brandt, push him at of the car and into the wall of a random building. To scrape his teeth against every inch he could reach, the man squirming and gasping against him. His touches going lower and lower to the growing bulge…

"Sir?" That voice was like musical heat going into his ear…

"Then you would illegally scrounge whatever materials you could from a backup supply house that I had overlooked where your team is waiting for further instructions"

"Sir, you may want to…"The Secretary's hand came out to give a shut up command to the analyst.

"And this conversation having never taken place, your intentions would be unclear, but if anyone of your team is caught or killed, they will be branded terrorists out to incite international nuclear war."

He nodded in understanding, knowing the risks. It was dangerous, just how he liked it.

"Your mission, should you choose to accept it" He took the flash drive, tucking it into his jacket for safekeeping before looking back to the older man.

"Ethan, you were my best man, I'm sorry it's come down to this after all of the sacrifices you've made. If we don't meet again, I just want you to know; I've always considered you a friend…"

BOOM!

The car lurched as bullets imbedded themselves in the car…

"GET DOWN" He roared, looking to see if Brandt was safe "DRIVE, DRIVE!"

BANG!

The head of the older man fell forward, blood streaming down his head.

The driver went next, the car sharply going left…

In that moment, he looked to Brandt. He considered kissing the man, giving the newly known stranger one last moment of affection before death. Or he could come up with a plan for getting them both out of here so an extended affection scene could happen when they weren't being shot at…

He decided with the second option right as they went into free fall.

Hopefully the erect rod in his pants wouldn't hinder their escape…

The water his like an icy eighteen wheeler.

…then again, cold water was always good for banishing boners.

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><p>Reviews? Please!<p>

What did you think?


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